Healer-boy

Her playful words of calm down and the patting of her paw on his was... fascinating to say the least. Usually, his skin prickled when he was touched by someone else but this was entirely different. It wasn't the practiced comfort of his family, it was a clumsy attempt and it made him clumsily smile.

The smile slowly faded as he looked sheepishly at his work to give her privacy and sudden energy to get her in fighting shape.
What changed? How could he say everything and nothing? She was still a slave and he should have put in this work months ago. But his worry for his father and the whole pack and the blight put the kibosh on all that at the time.

“Well… I’ve been meaning to get you a den for a while. But when I brought it up last time… you were technically drugged and on a bad trip and you panicked thinking I was throwing you out. So I thought having your space in the back by my door would be… enough.” He didn’t know what she might even remember from that.

“And… I want to prove to you that you can earn your freedom. If you truly want to be free you can fight for it here. You’ll be free to leave, you’ll be free to… choose who… you want to be with.” He said slowly. As if pulling that information out of him might cost him whatever he had gained earlier.

But an idea started to form in his mind, a flicker of hope, something he knew was possible.

“To prove to you that I mean it… I’ll find a way to give you your bastard father’s head. I’ll kill the whole slave camp where you’re from. Give you all their heads. Every single one that touched you.” Determination in his gaze. He was serious. This was something he knew how to do. He was a healer yes but he was also an accomplished fighter.